The Raven
by insaneartist
Summary: I'm in the process of rewriting a few things, this story being one of them. I am Tom Marvolo Riddle. I am Lord Voldemort. I am young. I am by no means stupid. And I will figure out her mysteries. Even the mere reasons why they exist at all. Full summary inside. Previously "Bleeding for Nothing"
1. Every Word Like Winter

**Summary:**

Hogwarts, and everything related to it, belongs to me.

Literally.

I am the heir of Slytherin. The only descendent left of the four founders. These walls here, they're mine. The grounds, mine. The underground bits, too. Especially the basilisk. Following such logic, all the people aren't mine, but I should know about them. They are, in fact, mere visitors in my castle. I am not just entitled to their knowledge, I am _supposed_ to know what they know.

Nyathera is no different.

I will find her out.

I will uncover her mysteries.

After all, it does belong to me.

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><p><strong>Chapter One: Every Word Like Winter<strong>

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><p>I don't know if she tries to stand out ever so defiantly, or if she just honestly prefers pants. Leather pants, most of the time, but pants regardless. They're black pants, all the pairs she keeps for classes are black. Therefore she isn't breaking a Hogwarts rule or the Dress code.<p>

I'd like to say it's just odd of her, but she is the actual, physical embodiment, of odd.

She tattoos her skin, then uses magic to wash it all away.

She pierces parts of her body, then uses magic to heal away the holes.

I shouldn't be staring at her, especially during a Slug Club meeting. But she's wearing pants with some new sort of fabric, much less the ridiculous print. She's slapped her hair up at all angles. She's pierced the bridge of her nose and tattooed roses and tulips and vines all over her collarbone. It's rather difficult to not stare at how she's decorated her new skin.

She stared back at me for several minutes, creating an awkward tension in the room.

I looked up at her and met her gaze. I quietly cleared my throat to scare off the beginnings of cottonmouth. "It must hurt to have to clean your skin just to tattoo it again."

She shrugged, stared off, and then drew in a deep breath. "It's more like painting than tattooing. It hurts, but that's the point."

I scoffed while the others chuckled, Slughorn's discomfort obvious.

"That sounds more like pointless suffering than anything else."

She stared right back at me. "Suffering is like bleeding, Tom. Sometimes it stops with a bit of pressure, sometimes you just bleed out until you die. It doesn't matter how you bleed, because it happens to all of us. You can't escape the bleeding, you just have to fix it when it happens. And sometimes you can't, so sometimes you die."

She obviously doesn't understand me. I don't blame her, though; it's difficult, basically impossible, to understand a god.

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><p><strong>AN: Please review.**


	2. Class Distractions

**Chapter Two: Class Distractions**

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><p>As usual, she's smoking. Professor Binns doesn't seem to care. Most likely because he's a ghost; he can neither smell nor breathe. I suppose it's arguable that Hogwarts doesn't have any rules or policies about smoking. Plus she's by an open window. Doing as she pleases, and yet remains considerate. Even Algie, the boy sitting next to her, doesn't seem bothered, and there's <em>always<em> something bothering him. He is, without a doubt, the most up tight prefect I've ever met or heard of. His behavior in itself is puzzling; Gryffindors aren't supposed to care about such insignificant, petty things. Perhaps it's the disorganization of History of Magic. This class, unless failed at any point, stops being mandatory after fifth year. No one likes it much, which is why students of all four houses are in this class session.

"Tom," Binns droned, "If you find Nyathera so intriguing and staring at her more valuable than today's lesson, you can write me a paper about her."

I immediately stand up straighter, "Sir, I—"

He waved a hand at me, as if to dismiss my thoughts, "You will read it for the class by Monday."

I nodded then quietly sighed. I caught a glimpse of Nyathera in my peripheral; I've been somewhat embarrassed and she doesn't have the decency to even fake some sort of feeling of being phased or affected. Completely focused on her blowing smoke rings out of her mouth. Her feet crossed at the ankles and on top of her side of the table, she leans back on her chair, putting most of her weight on the back two legs of the chair, her head tilted back, but still staring out the window.

I sighed angrily. I don't pay attention for just a moment, but she can smoke in class, stare out the window, and put her feet on her desk? All at the same time no less! Practicing smoke rings is related to magical history now? Ridiculous. And she's ignoring me! Who does she think she is? And she doesn't even wear the uniform! Why hasn't she been reprimanded? Fixed? Anything? Tattoos and piercings and not just pants, but leather pants, sometimes just pants that are tight but look fuzzy, sometimes she walks in with her muggle-like sailor dresses! Sometimes she doesn't even wear a shirt, just a jacket that shows her stomach when she reaches up high! She puts her hair up in these weird pompadours or puts it up as one, large curl that flops near her forehead! She brings in her devil rock and roll! She taints the halls with its dances! She skips school for days to go to muggle things and brings back records of the "next star to mark rock."

As if anyone cares about the "next star," much less the current stars. Especially muggle ones. What's a pureblood like her doing dabbling in muggle affairs anyway? And why doesn't anyone here stop her from these shenanigans? No regard for the dress code or any of the classes! Another crazy Lovegood, huh? Not even the craziest of the Lovegood's would disrespect either Hogwarts or Wizards! What, because she's quiet in class she can smoke and wear what she wants and arrive and leave whenever a time pleases her?

Abraxas distracted me from my thoughts by quietly ripped a piece of parchment off the side of some old notes and passed me, "Her friends call her Cecilia."

I smirked and wrote back to him, "She has friends?"

We smirked and quietly chuckled. Binns shot us a cold look, so we quickly quieted ourselves. Abraxas still passed me another note, though. "She's supposed to be one of the most academically accomplished students in Hogwarts."

I sighed and passed back, "I know that, Malfoy. Do you really find me that incompetent?"

My peripheral caught sight of his body suddenly stiffening. He hurriedly passed me, "Of course not, I just thought it best to tell you what I know."

I nodded and crumpled up the parchment. I took notes until the class ended. I watched her flick her ashes out of the window and walk out. Algie stayed behind an extra minute to put his things back into his bag, so I walked over to him. "Longbottom."

He sighed and looked up at me, "What do you need, Tom?"

I drew in a deep breath, "Today is Friday."

Algie nodded his head.

"I have to present an essay on Nyathera on Monday."

Algie nodded again.

"You being her friend and all—"

Algie picked up his back and comfortably adjusted the strap on his shoulder. He walked away after saying, "It's your essay, Tom, not mine."

That. Stupid. Idiotic. Bloody. Fool.

I clenched my fists and tried to regulate my breathing; he's right, this isn't his essay. That doesn't mean I can't figure her out by Monday.

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><p><strong>AN: Please review.**


	3. Above the City in a Rain Cloud

**Chapter Three: Above the City in a Rain Cloud**

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><p>"She isn't in here," Abraxas whispered.<p>

Rolling my eyes, I replied, "Imagine that."

The boys grinned, but I kept scanning the Great Hall for her. I don't understand the reasoning of skipping every meal every day. Where does she eat? What does she eat? Does she eat? Everyone eats. She apparently has friends, but I haven't the slightest clue as to whom, besides Longbottom. I don't know what she does, much less goes, and I don't know her friends, or anyone who would know even the tiniest bits about her, except for Longbottom, who won't tell me a single thing. Not even a lie to get me away from him. A lie, although pointless and ultimately just time consuming, would please my ears more than being shut out.

"The Grey Lady fancies you."

I snapped back into the current moment and looked at Abraxas, "What?"

He gave me a confused look, "The Grey Lady, she fancies you, doesn't she? If she knows where Nyathera is, or at least where she goes, she'll be straight."

I nodded and quietly finished my mashed potatoes. All my energy needs to go to finding Nyathera, not to thank Malfoy for his statements of the obvious. She would know about Nyathera, though. She is the Ravenclaw Ghost.

I walked away from the table without another word. The boys looked at me curiously for a moment or two, but went back to their conversations. The main halls were empty, but I didn't expect to find her somewhere open and obvious. The dungeons don't seem to appeal to her; she leaves potions early and comes in late. I don't know why Slughorn likes her. At all.

I couldn't find the Grey Lady or Nyathera, so I decided to go to the Room of Requirements – I'll ask for a map of where Nyathera goes – but there was already a door. My confusion was tied between who else would know about this and why didn't they hide the door?

Perhaps Nyathera?

Algie wasn't at dinner either.

I opened the door. Worst case scenario, memory charms.

The room looked like a beach, even with an ocean lapping at the shoals. The Room of Requirements isn't supposed to do this. It gives you what you ask for, not _where_. But it has given me what I've been looking for; Nyathera sat near the ocean, the gentle waves almost tickling her feet. Algie's arms were wrapped tightly around her, squeezing her to him, keeping her stuck against his chest. Her whole body shook violently while she wailed. He slowly rocked them back and forth while holding her.

I closed the door behind me, but I only stood in front of it.

They ignored me for hours.

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><p><strong>AN: Please review!**

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><p><strong>AN:heartonholiday and LALALALA D: Thank you so much for the reviews! I appreciate them a lot. :)**


	4. The Flames Begin

**Chapter Four: The Flames Begin**

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><p>I sat outside and waited for them to come out. Nyathera walked out by herself, but paid no attention to me when I called her name. Algie stood next to my right and stared down until I stood up and looked him in the eye. He sighed and asked me, "Have you no shame?"<p>

I laughed at his absurdity.

Algie shook his head and started to walk away from me.

No one walks away from me.

They've denied me the tiniest bit of conversation; they won't keep pushing me around.

I grabbed my wand and shot a curse his way. He screamed and crumpled to the floor, and somehow, someway, Nyathera appeared by his side before I walked the ten feet to him. She stared at me with horrified eyes before she dropped to his side. She rolled him onto his back and cried out at the sight of the dark lines zigzagging and tainting his usual pale skin. She tried to heave him into her arms, but she couldn't manage it, so she levitated him and ran to the hospital wing.

I probably should have stopped her, stunned her somehow, left him to rot, but I couldn't budge my desires for the opportunity she finally presented to me. I ran after her and watched as Madame Pomfrey checked out Algie. I slowly walked up to the bed, but Nyathera turned quickly on her heels and snatched my face by my chin. Her voice sounded like honey dripping from a hive in spring, her _words_ sounded like the stingers. "Leave. Ask Dumbledore to help him."

She let go of my face and I stumbled back a few feet. I never planned on what I would say back to her, I always figured she wouldn't want conversation, just to tell me a few things to get me out of her hair. All I could do was nod and oblige.

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><p>Dumbledore's class has been dismissed until Algie's health improves. Nyathera has stayed by his side, at least, that's what I've heard. The Ravenclaws haven't seen her; she hasn't been in any of the classes, or at any of the meals. Regardless of the fact that I haven't been able to find out anything about her, Binns sent me to the front of the class.<p>

"Well," he droned, "Please enlighten us with your research, Mr. Riddle."

I couldn't figure out what to say about her. I did my best to ramble about what I've seen of her over the weekend, but that wasn't much. I couldn't tell them the sound of her voice, for that would expose what actually happened to Algie. I couldn't tell them she walks as if gravity refused to bother with her. Could I tell them that she cries for hours without pausing to breathe? I gulped and quietly sighed as Binns spoke.

"You didn't do your work? This is a first, Tom."

"I don't know about her, sir, I don't know what she can do."

Binns started to speak, but the door to his classroom squeaked open for Nyathera and slammed shut behind her. She drew in a deep breath, her exhale sounded like a low whistle, but she smiled anyway, "I can do anything, Tom."

I awkwardly laughed, "Is that so?"

She nodded, "You just have to let me near."

I awkwardly laughed again. The whole class was on the edge of their seats with curiosity, and my curiosity was also overwhelming. I shrugged and replied, "Alright."

Her smirk sent a chill deep into my spine. She slowly walked to the front of the class and didn't stop until she was mere inches from me. "If you're letting me near, tell me those secrets, Tom."

I looked at her confused, "What?"

She harshly cut me off with her determined whisper, "The secrets that you don't want to tell, the ones that you're scared to reveal."

I laughed at her.

She grabbed my face and squeezed my cheeks with her unnaturally hot right hand. Her fingertips burnt the flesh of my cheeks as she bitterly whispered, "You need to hear yourself, Tom. How can you know a single thing about me when you can't even listen to your own thoughts?"

I went to slap her hand off of my face; the pain became overwhelming, but she squeezed my face even more, brought me down to her own face, and kissed my open mouth. My knees started to shake, not because I found the moment oh so romantic, but from actual weakness. They gave out, but she kept her firm grip. Our lips weren't moving, this kiss wasn't right.

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><p>[Third Person POV, not Tom]<p>

Demonically dark lines and swirls appeared on Tom's cool skin, as if the Devil himself currently inhabited it, as if Tom was a vessel instead of a human. His usually pale, pink lips transitioned into a light green and his breath, spaced too far from each other, sounded like slowly breaking glass. Professor Binns sent a student for Madame Pomfrey then told the rest to stay seated and calm down. He rushed in front of Nyathera and half shouted, half asked, "What did you do?"

She drew in a deep breath; her natural colors flew back into her body, making her shiver. She looked at him with drowsy eyes, "Dumbledore couldn't help Algie and Madame Pomfrey couldn't even diagnose him."

Binns asked again, "What did you do?"

Nyathera slowly exhaled, enjoying it as if she knew it to be her last. "I took it from Algie and I gave it to the God forsaken creature that cursed him."

Nyathera and Binns stared at each other until Dumbledore rushed in with the confused student barely behind him. Dumbledore grabbed Nyathera by her right arm and pulled her down to Tom. Dumbledore rolled Tom onto his back and shouted at Nyathera, who sighed and rolled her eyes while straddling Tom's lower abdomen. She looked at Dumbledore and said, "I won't harbor it again."

Dumbledore angrily roared, "THEN PUT IT IN YOUR HANDS!"

Completely unaffected by his tone and urgency, Nyathera, "I'll hold it, I won't absorb it."

Dumbledore shouted without words, then looked at the nearest student and ordered him to go find Professor Beery for some Devil's Snare. Nyathera lifted Tom's shirt to reveal an overabundance of hideous lines slowly wrapping around his bones and arteries and organs. She slowly dug her nails into his fleshed and howled with absolute pain. Tom's breaths became sporadic and loud while the thick, dark lines were sucked from his body and completely tainted, maybe even filled Nyathera's hands. Her body started to shake while she screamed from the hot pain from her fingertips to her elbows. Professor Beery almost broke down the door while running into the room. He tossed a burlap sac of Devil's Snare into the air; Dumbledore magically froze it in the air and release the Devil's Snare next to Nyathera and Tom. She thrusted her upper body into the pile and drove the nails of her frozen-in-place hands into the Devil's Snare, which stopped withering and squeezing, froze in place, steamed then suddenly cracked into hundreds of chunks.

Tom's body violently shuddered, his torso thrusted into the air, and the sound of his desperate lungs sucking air back into his reborn body matched that of a black hole trapping a galaxy. Nyathera was bucked off of him; she rolled a couple of times before puking onto the chunks of Devil's Snare and standing up. She groaned before looking at Dumbledore. He rose from the floor and said, "You don't have to do it again."

She shook her head; her voice was scratchy, "I _won't_ do it."

He raised a brow inquisitively.

Nyathera pointed to a violently healing Tom, "He'll keep ailing the students."

Dumbledore's voice switched to a concerned father, "Will you stop helping them?"

Nyathera shook her head again, "Just him." She turned from him and walked away, but stopped at the doors of the room. She rested against the closed door and looked over her left shoulder at Dumbledore, "I've been through enough. I've suffered through enough. Algie is the only one I have left. If I have to sacrifice a monster to keep Algie alive, then so be it."

She walked out.

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><p><strong>AN: Please review.**


	5. Mona Lisa

**Chapter Five: Mona Lisa**

I violently threw my goblet of juice against a wall in the common room while standing up. "I DON'T BLOODY KNOW WHAT HAPPENED, MALFOY. WHY ARE YOU SO BLOODY CURIOUS OVER THINGS THAT DON'T EVEN CONCERN YOU?"

He babbled a bit, but I walked away from the pathetic group who think me their friend and left for my bed. I don't know what she did to me, or even how she did it. I don't know why she had to do it in front of the class; I don't know why I woke up in chunks of Devil's Snare, either. Is that the cure for my new curse? This is the worst day to date. I've been made a fool, I almost died, I'm incredibly confused, and the only people who will talk to me offer no insight whatsoever. To add to the discomfort of my day, my bed had someone who is not I in it.

But then I saw it was she. Nyathera looked at me through half-opened eyes and slowly drew in a deep breath. I gulped and surprisingly timidly asked, "What are you doing in here, in my bed?"

She sat up and hunched a bit before yawning, then she looked me right in the eye. "You failed to learn about me for Binns' class—"

I through my hands up and ran them through my hair, "Well you did a bloody good job providing a show."

She smirked and continued as if I didn't interrupt her, "Not due to a lack of effort, but to a lack of understanding."

I sighed, leaned against the wall, and took her bait. "What is it that I do not understand?"

She moved to the edge of my bed, made a motion as if she was going to lightly jump off, but then froze in position. I could barely hear her whisper, "It's not me you need to figure out, Tom," Then she looked at me as if she were possessed, "It's the curse I am forced to bear."

I didn't respond, I couldn't; I stared at her while she gently jumped off the edge of my bed and landed softly on her delicate yet strong feet. She walked over to me, took my wand out of my pocket and forced me to hold it in my right hand. She wrapped both of her hands around my wand hand and pressed the tip of my wand against the skin and bone that separates the outside world from her heart.

I gulped and quietly whispered, "Wh—what do you want from me, Nyathera?" I couldn't believe I stuttered, but she seemed to either not notice or not care.

She closed her eyes with so much apathetic relaxation that it almost felt sensual, especially coupled with the shiver caused by her whisper.

I asked her to repeat herself.

She immediately opened her eyes and stared into mine, "Avada Kedavra me."

I opened my mouth, but I couldn't find any words.

She pressed her body as close to mine as possible while still having my wand pressed into her skin. "Don't tell me you're not capable." She stood on her tiptoes, bent her head back and whispered against the beginnings of my jaw, just to the right of my chin, "We both know that you've done it before."

An uncontrolled, short-lived spasm shook my whole body for a good two seconds before I stared into her foggy eyes, "Why?"

She smiled. She smiled a real smile. She smiled the smile one smiles when they know it to be their last.

It was chilling.

It was sexy.

But, most of all, it was confident.

She didn't want to waste any more time with silence, so she whispered, "You've become so skilled with it that you don't even need to be feeling angry when you do it. You don't even need to call upon your rage; it just flows. So let it flow, Tommy," She pressed her lips against my jaw line, "Let it flow."

I became a mindless puppet, completely unaware of everything, everything except for her soft, oddly cold lips against my sharp, warm jaw. "_Avada Kedavra._"

The dirty green light exploded out of my wand with the kind of force that could have destroyed a whole room, but it didn't even knock her back. She actually took a step back from me with her hands on her hips and a sickened laugh wisping out of her mouth. A hole, it's inner ring completely burnt, was in the fabric of her blue, turtle neck sweater dress, revealing a little of the sun kissed flesh of her breasts. She sighed, shrugged, then said, "You see, Tommy-Bear—"

"My—"

She kept talking, completely disregarding my interruption; "I'm a living, breathing paradox. I'm the complete personification of life. I cannot be permanently injured. I can't die, either. Perhaps one day from natural causes, but for now, it seems that I am immortal."

My jaw dropped and I accidentally spat on my sweater.

"My family died in a fire when I was twelve. Our house was set ablaze by some demented follower of Grindelwald." She sat at the foot of my bed and stared up at the ceiling, "My parents were too intelligent for these times and they were definitely more courageous than this time can handle. So they killed my parents. They killed my younger sister and my older brother." Her voice suddenly became higher, "I watched as they burned to death. They screamed. They tried to break out of the house, but no magic or physical force could do anything. I watched them burn. I tried to create a strong, continuous stream of water from my wand, I tried to lie on them to put the fire out, but Fiend Fire is an evil, uncontrollable thing." She looked back into my eyes, "My skin burned, peeled, healed and burned again over and over until everything was ashes. Everything but me."

I leaned against the wall behind me again and managed to whisper, "I thought their portraits were in the trophy room because they did something noble, something honor-worthy for the school."

She just looked at me.

"I thought you smoked and ditched because you didn't care enough to reach their greatness."

She hopped off my bed and pressed herself gently, yet assertively, against me. "I didn't watch a fire consume my family, I watched my family burn into ashes. Everyone thinks that I have a gift. I have a curse. Someone upstairs either has plans so big and difficult for me that the horrors I saw prepare me for something, or God isn't all that kind and has seriously morbid humor."

I breathed out with amusement and smiled crookedly.

She brought her soft hands up to my pale face and cradled my face. She then slowly tilted my head down before whispering again, the same sensual whisper from before. "You see, Tommy-Bear, I'm not suicidal. I do not wish to kill myself," She slid her hands down my neck, across my shoulders, down my arms and onto my hands. She placed my hands, one on top of the other, on the flesh protecting her heart, "but I also don't really want to live."

My hands tickled with warm; we both looked down to see my magic acting on its own and fixing the hole in her sweater dress. We looked into each other's eyes at the same time and words flew out quietly from between my warm lips, "I don't want to kill you."

She nodded.

My voice was dry and scratchy as I concluded, "I won't kill you."

She smirked and said, "You couldn't anyway." Then she walked away from me the second her dress was fixed, but she stopped at the door and looked at me.

I gulped, "There are some angry chaps out there that you'll have to pass."

She didn't respond, she just left, and I just watched her walk away. I watched Nyathera walk out on me in all the glory of her sun kissed skin, yet cold lips and hands. In all the magnificence of her shapely legs, her small waist, her balanced bust, her short frame. Her elegantly sloppy hair, the dragon's fire tattooed on the back of her neck, do doubt coming from a dragon tattoo that covers her back.

I suddenly looked down. Not out of shame, but to see if any of the golden honey that coats her voice dripped upon the floor of my dormitory or anywhere in the hall. Malfoy and one of his goons walked down the hall next to her and smirked at me, but I was too busy looking for the honey to pay them any response.


	6. Use You Up

"I think she'll show—"

I angrily cut off that twit, Malfoy. "She hasn't showed to the last three classes. Don't get too excited."

Malfoy sighed, quietly but angrily, before returning back to his supplies. I, too, sighed in the same fashion while I pressed my back against the uncomfortable wooden chairs. What does it matter where Nyathera is? It's nice to get a room that doesn't reek of smoke. I don't know why Malfoy wants to talk about her so much. He must have some stupid school-boy crush on her. There are five other boys with whom he can speak about her, but he chooses me, for the silliest of matters. Really? Does he really think I care for his desires?

Dumbledore appeared in the doorway, his rope scratching at the smooth, granite-like flooring of the classroom. He magically slammed the doors shut as he turned at the front of the classroom to face us. He made eye contact with each and every one of us before saying, "All of you in this room have a short time before Hogwarts can reveal you to our world as fully functioning wizards and witches. Alas," he sighed and slid his gaze over to me, "we don't tell you about everything that's out there. There are glorious victories awaiting you outside of these gates, but there are also terrible, terrible dangers waiting to feast upon your naïve desires, your weaknesses." Dumbledore crossed his arms against his chest and said, "What I'm about to show you does not leave this classroom. The secrets I'm about to unlock—the information I think you're ready to receive, is my lesson to teach. Speak of it amongst yourselves as you please, not to no others." He swiftly opened his arms, cutting the air, before any of us could ask any questions.

A humanoid figure, dripping in liquid, metallic, strangely glittering gold walked into the room. The doors slammed shut behind it, yet made no noise. The gold was almost gooey; it stuck to floor, yet weren't exactly puddles, and it all somehow slid back up to the humanoid. The humanoid figure stopped at Dumbledore, stared at him for a moment, then stepped aside and turned to face all of us. The dripping, gooey gold flowed from the floor, to the figure and up its body. The gold swirled around and up, made a few loops around the upper part of the body, and flowed downward, just to repeat this cycle. Dumbledore pointed to the strange figure and said, "This, witches and wizards, is the literal, physical embodiment of not just immortality, but eternal youth."

Malfoy blurted out, "What?"

Dumbledore ignored him; I slid forward in my seat, pressing the front of my body against the cold, black desk.

Dumbledore looked at the human figure and dropped his arm, "Go ahead and change back."

The figure breathed in deeply, its breath sounding and feeling like the breeze; all the gold started to swirl around the figure's body so quickly that all one could see is the blinding glitter quality. A scream erupted from the figure as a bright light exploded in the room; when we all could see again, only mere seconds later, a naked Nyathera appeared, though her body was heavily coated in the glittery, gooey gold substance.

"The honey-like substance isn't the literal part. That honey-like substance is what Nyathera's inners looks like. Her cells, her organs, her parts—they don't decompose. They stay as a… an…" Dumbledore chuckled to himself, "elixir of life, if you will."

Everyone was too shocked to give a giggle. Nyathera already told me of her power, but I never thought of her form as so… so magnificent. I knew she sounded like honey, but I didn't realize that she was made of it.

"Nyathera can take your life source away and keep it for herself, give it to someone—or something—else, or give it back to you. If she gets injured, she automatically heals. In your bodies, parts and cells age and die with the hopes that another cell is there to take its place. Nyathera's cells and parts never get tired. They age, but they never die. They don't even get recycled within her body. They stay pure and strong forever."

The class' bewilderment heavied the air.

"There's so much that Nyathera can do—"

I cut Dumbledore off, "Can she show us?"

Dumbledore went to speak, but Nyathera walked toward me, which stole Dumbledore's chance to reply. The gold dripped and slid off her body, slowly forming streaks of movement on the floor. She leaned her torso onto my desk, grabbed my forearms in her hot hands, pulled me up and heaved me toward her. She sucked at the air I puffed out from the force, but suddenly, it wasn't air to come out of me. A dark, muddy green evaporation was pulled from deep in my body and released into the air. I couldn't close my mouth. I couldn't sit down. I couldn't escape her. She even let go of me, but her sucking kept me frozen. My body grew weak and my sight left and returned in quick spurts.

She suddenly let go of me. I slammed down onto the desk and somehow rolled to the floor. She blew the evaporation back into my mouth, sealing it back into my body with a burning hot lip-to-lip attachment. We've met like this twice, but never has it been a kiss. Always a seal. A tearing or a sealing.

As the evaporation settled back in my body, I was able to see and breathe regularly again.

"That was your soul," Nyathera said, only her voice didn't sound like it regularly does—like honey. It resounded into the air, absorbed into the walls, as if it were a wave of beautiful beat in a song. "You don't have much left, Tom. Stop ripping it around everywhere."

Dumbledore walked to me and magically placed me back in my seat.

I gasped for air, my spittle flying around and my chest heaving. I grabbed at the desk—the full force of the experience suddenly shook my body. It felt as if a seizure was rocking me, but from within my marrow rather than my muscles.

And I looked at her. The gold dripping away, almost melting off. Her bare body revealed yet unseeable. And her form, her being, her power—it all was too much. Everything I wanted treated like a curse—a power being used as a puppet for Dumbledore.

I found the strength to get up and walk to her, but I collapsed at her feet. I couldn't move to look up at her, so I pressed my cold lips into the hot flesh of her ankle and mouthed, "How?"

Nyathera squatted down, dipped her finger in the gooey, honey gold, and slipped it into my mouth. The goo instantly fell off her finger and absorbed into my body. I started to thrash around again, only this time my body felt hot. I was being slammed all over the floor until I ended up at Dumbledore's feet. He looked down into my eyes and said, "I don't know what you've done to yourself, Tom, but that feeling was healing."

My breathing felt cool and easy, as if her sustainability coated my lungs. "I don't need your advice, old man." I shifted my gaze to Nyathera—I tried to speak to her, but my voice was high and musical like hers was. I looked around and realized that no one understood me—either time. Dumbledore still stared down at me; my classmates looked horrified, yet calm. I looked back up at Nyathera and said, "Let me use you up—"

"You'd have to give me your young life."

Dumbledore broke the airwaves with a magical, thunderous clap, which fixed my voice, as everyone understood my cursing. He looked back down at me and said, "It's not just outside these gates that are waiting to take advantage of your naïve desires, Tom. Healing is just as easy as deceit in the guise of self-interest. You must be care—."

Nyathera turned into a blinding light; we all shielded our eyes from the blast, but when we looked around she was nowhere to be found.


	7. Little Talks

Longbottom sat quietly in the library, only three tables away from me. I stared at him between tasks; he noticed me, I know he did, but he ignored me regardless of the nature of my stare. So, I got up and walked over to him.

"Longbottom."

He sighed and looked up at me. "What, Tom?"

My jaw clenched at the sound of my rotten muggle father's name-no matter. Soon more than just my Death Eaters will be proper with my title. "Where has Nyathera been? She hasn't been to class for the last three weeks."

"She doesn't need to be." Longbottom sighed and started to put his things back into his beige, suede messenger bag. He stood and looked me square in the eye, "Your paper is done, Tom, leave her alone."

He started to walk away from me, so I grabbed his arm as it swung back. I pulled him backward a bit and growled, "Don't worry about my motives-"

Longbottom yanked his arm away from me and took a step so close to my face that I breathed the anger escaping from his nose. He grabbed a bundle of my tie, shirt and cardigan and whisper-shouted at me, "Don't try to pull me around like one of your cronies - or, _God forbid_, one of your naive little fourth year girlfriends. I've been tolerant of your nonsense, but enough is enough!" Longbottom yanked me again; I was frozen by his audacity. "I don't care if you can't handle that we're peers, that we're _equals_, okay? You should be grateful," he spat, "that I would continue to humor such a silly little halfblood." He shoved me away.

I watched with wide, angry eyes as he huffed out hot air and grabbed his things. Longbottom started to walk away from me, as if I would take that ridicule; I grabbed his shoulder and slammed him down onto the table. I wrapped my right hand around his throat and slammed his face agains the table. I grinned at the sound of his surprise and fear in his wails-but I was suddenly crippled by a force that felt like arms squeezing my sides and fingertips in my chest. My knees weakened and I fell to the ground; I lost control of my bodily functions; I could feel my trousers get wet as I convulsed on the ground.

"We really need to stop meeting like this." A honey-like voiced chuckled.

I woke up in the infirmary. Dumbledore looked at me from the foot of my bed. He sighed as he stood up. "What is your obsession with Nyathera and Longbottom?

"I don't have an obsession," I mumbled and started to sit up.

"No, no." Dumbledore said, "Keep seated."

I groaned and rolled my eyes.

Dumbledore got off my bed, walked all the way up to me and leaned down to whisper in my ear. "Nyathera cannot be harnessed for your twisted goals. Leave her alone, Tom. Leave Algie alone, too."

"I don't take orders from pathetic old men!" I shouted and rolled out of the bed.

Dumbledore did a tsking sound with his tongue against his teeth. "Only if you want to live long enough to be an old man."

I rolled my eyes and walked out. I had better things to worry about-like how does Nyathera just appear and disappear at will? She clearly isn't apparting, so what is she doing? How is she so silent? How does she just know how to be there? And how can I have that for myself?

I walked down several flights of stairs until I reached the Great Hall; I was in time for dinner. I sat at the edge of the Slytherin table and stared at the Hufflepuffs-it really doesn't take much to intimidate any of them.

But I must focus. If I must groom her to be a Death Eater then I will, but it would take too long to tame her. It'd be better just to gain her powers.

A voice flowed on top of the air and wisped into my ear, "_You'd never have success. There's too much for you."_

"What does that even mean?" I shouted into the air, staring up at the night ceiling.

Everyone looked at me for a quick moment.

I shook my head and started to put some food on my plate.

_"It would over power you."_

I slammed my fork down. "You know nothing of my potential!"

Everyone looked at me again.

I shrugged it off.

_"You have no idea the responsibility required-"_

"You know nothing about me!" I screamed and flipped my plate of food over and off of the table. Everyone stared at me, but I didn't care. Most people were too uncomfortable to continue to stare at me. Except Longbottom. His eyes burrowed into my skin. How could he do this? How could he put words into my mind? Is it all the time he has spent with her? Weren't they kissing in the Room of Requirements? Is that how she gives you power? A kiss of death, just tapered not to kill?

I stomped over to him.

Longbottom continued to eat while he stared at me with disinterest.

"WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU?" I hollered at him and pounded my palms into the table on either side of his plate.

He grinned, raised a brow with amusement and said, "Surely you should be asking yourself that?"

I grabbed his collar, "DON'T TRY TO MUDDLE ME UP, LONGBOTTOM!"

_"He doesn't have to."_ The voice wisped again.

"AGGH!" I screamed and slapped Longbottom across the face.

He shot up and shoved me backward. I tripped over my own feet - how was I so clumsy these last few days? - and feel to the floor. Gold dripped on me while a blinding silhouette enveloped Longbottom.

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><p><strong>AN: MissHaleyBlack**: Thank you. C:


	8. Houdini

**Chapter Eight: Houdini**

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><p>My whole head hurt. Not from an ache so much as sinus congestion of some sort. My whole body felt cold and damp, and as I rose, I realized that I was lying down in the low tide of the Black Lake. Night owned the sky, but the full moon gave some room for sight. I couldn't quite see the castle, but I made out that I was on the shoals of the lake, so I hurried up and out of the water, but I was hit with such a bitter cold that I sat back down and checked my robe for my wand. Nyathera rose from the water, but from deeper in the tide. She made her way over to me and then sat down. "Have you ever fallen asleep in a bath, Tom?"<p>

"No," I spat and continued to rummage around for my wand, "Why would I?"

Nyathera suddenly straddled me and pushed me back down into the low tide by my shoulders. The water whipped the hair behind my ear and tickled my lobe. "To see if you could die."

"No," I whispered to her, "I've never wished death upon myself."

She smirked, "Of course not. You want to make yourself a god." She ripped my robe and shirtsleeve over my right bicep. I was somehow immobilized by her audacity, giving her the freedom of her hands. She shone a light from her wand over my bicep, "A skull made of snakes? Interesting."

Adrenaline rushed through my body and I pushed her off of me; her wand went flying upward while she grabbed me by the shoulders again, but this time she pulled me down into the water with her. I watched as the water had no effect on her body while she watched as I was fighting off drowning. I could feel the cold air on the back of my head, but she kept me submerged just enough to die. And then she let me free. I pushed her down hard enough to propel me out of the water. I gasped for air but violently coughed out spurts of water. I fell backward once I could breathe again, but I quickly got up again and raced to her wand.

Nyathera somehow got there first; she popped out of the water with her wand in hand. "You know what's odd?"

"What?" I shouted in anger and disbelief. What's happening?

"I'm the only dark skinned member in my family. The rest of my family is pale, like you, yet I'm rather dark. At first I just didn't get sunburns. Then it turns out I couldn't die in the fiend fire that Grindelwald sent into my home."

I took a step closer to her.

She grabbed me by the throat and dug her nails into my flesh. She looked me in the eyes while harshly and bitterly whispering, "What you're seeking is a curse. There is no reason to have an infinite reign and immortality. People are made to die. Some of us are made to suffer."

She pushed me back into the water and left.

It took me all night to find my way back to the castle. I immediately took a long, hot shower in the prefect's bathroom and did my best to dry my clothes magically, but without my wand. The night's affairs left me tired and drained, so my clothes were still a bit damp; I made it back to my quarters soon after my shower and kicked out the other boys. I found my wand on bed, but all I really wanted was to sleep.

I awoke hours later. I've missed all my classes, so after snagging some fruit from the Great Hall, I went roaming around the castle. The door to the Room of Requirement was showing; it was unlocked, so I walked inside. Nyathera and Longbottom were at their beach scene again, but their previous depressed intimacy has been replaced with a romantic sort. I only saw their bare feet and calves twisting and flexing, the rest of their bodies were hidden behind a beach bolder. His toes were buried in the sand while her legs kept phasing between her golden honey state and the regular human body. Their sounds and the motion of their legs gave away the closeness of being over, so I quietly rushed over and poked my head over the bolder. Her body remained the consistency of a physical object with mass, but her skin was swirling with an almost blinding, gooey gold. Longbottom's pale body had blotches of the gold stuck to him, but once they hit their finish and he rolled off, the gold absorbed into his body, giving him glow about him. It looked like previous wounds were healing, but he noticed me noticing him.

"What in bloody hell?" Longbottom shrieked and tossed sand up into my face. He was screaming at me for being some sort of pervert while they shuffled back into their clothes. Longbottom darted out and punched me square in the nose. I fell back into the sand and laughed.

"Who goes about canoodling without locking their door?"

Longbottom straddled me and went to punch me again, but a gold tinted, olive hand wrapped around his fist. Nyathera gently tugged him back to his feet and quietly led him to the door, so I got up and punched him in the back of the neck. Longbottom dropped to the floor and Nyathera spun around to face me. I went to block a fist that didn't end up forming; she wrapped her arms around me and forced a kiss on my lips. She tasted of fresh melon and felt like perfect pillow cushions. I wrapped my arms around her to continue this wonderfully odd feeling, but the taste turned bitter and the comfort turned into sharp stings. I fell to the sandy floor and she followed; she pulled her lips directly an inch above mine and sucked out bits of my essence. I watched in amazement and horror while she held my life in her mouth. She dashed over to Longbottom and pressed the lips of her carefully opened mouth to his neck. He started to move around again; he rolled over and panted heavily. Nyathera tugged him onto his feet and helped him walk out, yet again, leaving me on the brink of death on a useless lot of sand.

I woke up the next day back in my bed. I didn't bother asking how or why or who, but I did make my way to morning potions with Malfoy. In class, I told Malfoy that I caught the two going at it. He snickered and asked if I'd given them detention.

"No," I yawned, "I figure I'd bring it up with Slughorn."

"And what's he going to care?"

"Not him," I rolled my eyes, "the other students."

Malfoy immediately caught on and grinned.

I raised my hand so that Slughorn would call on me. "Professor, I know that the stone from a goat's stomach—"

"A bezoar," Slughorn smiled at me.

"Yes," I resisted sighing, "I know that a bezoar can save one from most potions induced poisons, but could it help Nyathera and Algie? They've been…intimate all over the castle!"

Most of the students started to laugh or chuckle. All the girls blushed before flashing shamming eyes over to Nyathera. Slughorn shuffled a bit before stating, "That sort of activity is inappropriate, and so is talk of it."

"Oh for Merlin's sake," Nyathera groaned and stood up. Longbottom followed closely behind her, eliciting grins and whistles. But Nyathera stopped at me instead of going to the door. She leaned over and whispered harshly in my ear,

"Have you had time to regenerate your energies?"

"Wha—?"

She turned her right pointer finger into gooey gold and stuck it in my open mouth. Just a few droplets consumed by whole body; my muscled flex and my bones thickened, forcing me to wiggle out of control. The experience of absorbing her essence is completely different when it's an additive rather than a fix.

She pulled her finger away from me and said, "You'd never handle it, Tom. Stop trying for it. You're wasting your life."

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><p><strong>AN: Please review.**

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><p><strong>AN: NoseBitingTeaCup:** Thanks! I'm really trying to make this an odd TR story. Thanks for the support. :)

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><p><strong>AN: MissHaleyBlack:** Thanks. Like I said above, I'm trying to make this an odd/unusual/unique TR story. :)

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><p><strong>AN: LALALALALA D:** I know I took forever. I was working a million hours in the summer and the quarter system at University was really kicking my ass. BUT it's winter break now, so I'm aiming to update stories like crazy.

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><p><strong>AN:iHeartOnHoliday:** Thank you. :) It can't be all dark, right? :)


	9. Am I Right, Am I Right, Am I Right?

**Chapter Nine: Am I Right, Am I Right, Am I Right?**

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><p>Slug Club Meeting. Quiet. Long. Waste of my time.<p>

Just as I got up to leave, Nyathera showed up, so I sat back down. Malfoy eyed this obviousness and awkwardness, but didn't say a word. Nyathera took the only seat left – right next to Slughorn. He greeted her without saying a word about her extreme tardiness. They sat and talked about her travels; I mostly ignored this conversation until she said, "The United States is a young country now, but you wouldn't believe what it becomes!"

I scoffed and said, without thinking, "And how could you possibly know?"

"A time turner."

Slughorn's whole body tensed up and he tried to object.

Nyathera pulled her time turner from a pocket in her jacket and waved it for all to see, but then started to laugh at all the shocked faces. "This is a pocket watch, you idiots." She put her watch away and laughed wildly. Everyone tried to chuckle, but they were all still tense. She got up and looked at Slughorn. "It's nearly midnight. Sorry to have been so late.

Slughorn waved as if to shoo her statement away. "I know you're busy."

She thanked him and left him and all of us.

A boy, who is definitely the quietest person I've ever seen, suddenly snapped and shouted, "What the bloody hell was that?"

Slughorn looked at him with serious eyes and an angry frown.

The boy continued, "Now really! The fuck is going on? We're a few minutes early and somehow we're late, and she can show up for two minutes, at the end, and be totally alright? This is bollocks!" He got up in a huff and continued to shout for a few minutes until Slughorn finally cut him off.

"What is it that you're specifically upset about?"

"We're all supposed to be equal in this room!" He must be a mudblood. That makes sense. The rage of a mudblood boiling out of control, which is to be expected with such filth.

Slughorn sighed and got up himself. He magically cleaned everything up. He looked at all of us before quietly saying, "I made that rule – created that standard so you all could know you're all valued here—"

"And now?" The boy shouted.

Slughorn shrugged and sat back down, strangely defeated. "I now realize that God doesn't make us all equal."

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><p>I stole a cloak from Peter Potter while I was tutoring an idiot Gryffindor in their common room. Vowing to inspect it later, I made my way out with it on and headed for the Ravenclaw tower. I scaled the last few stairs, expecting to be bombarded with riddles, but instead ran into someone. They laughed and quickly pulled the robe off of me. They then completely covered their body with it before stepping in front of me. Nyathera's head looked as if it was floating without a body, but clearly, she was my thief. She smirked at me and then darted down the stairs. I almost tripped several times and completely lost sight of her, but she was waiting for me at the very bottom, deep into the dungeons.<p>

"What took you so long?"

I straightened my robes, "It's difficult to sprint down moving staircases."

"What does that have to do with being slow?"

I rolled my eyes. "What do you want?"

She laughed, "You're the one who was coming to look for me!"

"And you were already there, waiting for me—"

"Don't flatter yourself," she scoffed, then removed the invisibility cloak entirely. She loosely folded it up and stuck it under her left arm. "Especially when there are important things that need to be discussed."

"Like what?"

She casually leaned against the wall, occasionally phasing through it, as if that's what people normally do. "You tell me, Tom."

She vanished with a pop.

She wrapped her arms around me.

Suddenly, we were on the top of a tower.

"Who plays the harp when you die?"

I was falling alone.

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><p>AN: I can't, for the life of me, find who James' father was. Peter may or may not be his name. Probably not.


	10. Til Your Highs Become Your Lows

I slammed the door open to Slughorn's complimentary living area, given to him for being Head of House – what a bloody joke! "Professor!" I screeched while walking into his apartment-like set up. It didn't take him nearly as long as I thought it would to come fumbling out.

Slughorn came barreling out of his room in an old green robe and shabby slippers. He screamed at me, "Merlin's Beard, Tom! It's two in the morning! What is so important?"

I flapped my arms around and shouted back, "Nyathera dropped me from a tower into the lake and left me to die!"

"What are you talking about?" Slughorn shouted and stared at my soaked form. "Nyathera has been patrolling the halls with Longbottom."

"How can you be so sure?"

"Why would she toss you into the lake?"

I've never been so irate. "That's why I'm here!" A subtle warmth perked up the room; I didn't have to search to know she was creeping in the shadows. "Interesting," I sighed, "that such an amazing source of power would sneak around like a rat—" I couldn't continue even the slightest second of snarky remarks. A force that felt like a log barreling through my spine, yet with claws to rip me open and inhabit my person, overpowered me. I fell to the floor and convulsed at Slughorn's feet. The pain was too overwhelming to hear or see anything; I have no idea how we got to the hut that was built for that oaf last year, but I could see him shocked in a corner as Dumbledore blew down the door, letting early morning sun cover all of us.

And that's when I finally saw the whole picture: Headmaster Dippet shaking, almost entirely behind Slughorn, while Slughorn was stiff from shock; that oaf was stuck in a corner and Longbottom shoved his way to the front of a crowd of SlugClub members.

"What are you doing?" Dumbledore screeched and made his way to the slab I've been pinned to.

Algie used all his might to hold Dumbledore back from snatching the sun straddling me. "They've been bonding for too long to be disrupted."

Dumbledore barked, "What are you talking about?"

"She's… She's giving him what he thinks he deserves."

In a cracked, soft voice, Dippet asked, "And what would that be?"

The familiar sound of wind and melody rode all the air in the room and came crashing down on my body. "Immortality." I could feel a shift in her position by the way my intestines were jerked. "Take off the ceiling."

Sounds of protest came in many tones and voices, but the roof was blown off and the sun came pouring in.

"Before I make the final sacrifice—the ceiling."

I gasped.

My body suddenly snapped with my stomach rising feet into the air. I could feel a mass traveling, squeezing my intestines and groping my major organs. I saw her, for the first time, as she was meant to be seen. Not as a glob of liquid gold flowing and forming an angel's body, but as shimmering, golden lava – liquid yet solidly formed, as a figure of such greatness. Such power. Such strength. Such tranquility.

Her voice filled my head until I was sure it'd burst, "This is a gift,"

Her golden arms were flowing, elbow deep, into my body. She looked me right in my eyes and said, "It comes with a price," before sliding her way up to my shoulders, transferring the pain to my neck, shoulders and arms.

Her face hovered a hair from mine. She smirked and sang, "Who is the lamb and who is the knife?"

I screamed from the sudden feeling in my chest. Her golden, honey lava was no longer coating the blood in my body, painting over the flesh of my veins. I could feel her hot hands cradling my heart.

Her face relaxed, but her gaze never changed. "Midas is king and he holds me so tight,"

She stabbed her fingers through my heart.

My body slammed back down onto the slab.

I screamed – a pain filled my body that felt so close to pleasure; my skin was burning and peeling off of my body to reveal layers of muscle fiber shattering into gold. I thrashed and melted, I was still and I ripped, I tensed and I finally formed. I panted, not understanding why I knew the last bit of her verse, but I still felt compelled to sigh out, "Turns me to gold in the Sunlight."

Still in her godly state, she climbed off me, rising me from the waist up off of the slab. With new eyes I could see her in her entirety. She was no longer the unbearable sun or the golden, molten statue of pure goodness. She looked like what the arc angles must look like – she looked like a true messenger of God, as if He sent her down to monitor his most powerful, most similar creation. Surely it started as wizards, but I know now He has acknowledged me.

I tried to breathe in, but I collapsed onto the floor.

Her melody, what should have sounded normal to me now, was even more powerful. "You prayed for a curse. And now you must live your arrogance."

All my senses suddenly left me. Was I aware of being unconscious, or was I left stripped of all I just held within my being? Completely unaware of everything – surroundings and myself. Certainly I have not been forsaken now.

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><p><strong>AN: Thank you all of you who have reviewed! I'm sorry I've waited so long to write this chapter!**


	11. Barely Moving, Then You're Running Wild

**Chapter Eleven**

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><p>I groaned out and shook my head; someone dumped a bucket of water onto my face. I was offered a towel, so I wiped the water off of my face and dabbed at my soaked hair. I looked around when I could finally see again and groaned at the sight of the hospital wing. I was going to say something snarky, but then I saw Nyathera. She was never ugly, but now I see her in all her gorgeous glory. Did she look like this just a bit ago?<p>

Her skin shines.

Her hair almost floats.

Her face has absolute, perfect symmetry.

Her big eyes stare at me.

Her full lips part.

Music spills out - it fills the air, it covers the floor.

Her whispers turn into physical, seeable notes and they swim around my head, sliding into my ears.

I reach out for her but fall off of the bed – _through_ the bed. But she grabs onto my sides and pulls me back up. We sit together, with her back against the headboard and my back against her chest. Our bodies glow gold and they look like flowing honey; I can't tell my body from her own, but I look up at all the amaze people and see that Longbottom's veins glow gold like our skin. Without having to ask, Nyathera says, "I heal Algie when he's sick, when he's hurt, whenever he needs healing. He'll live a lot longer; he gets hurt a lot less."

I feel myself sink into her, so she pushes me up into a sitting position, and she stays with me until I can keep myself solidified.

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><p>I wander the halls instead of going to the Slug Club Meeting. I troll around, looking for an unsuspecting first or second year, but I give up by the time I get onto the fifth level of Hogwarts. The door to the Room of Requirements is apparent and it's ajar, so I walk up to it and slowly poke my head in. A record is playing for a beach scene; Longbottom and Nyathera sit on the shoals – not holding one another, not getting intimate like before. She knows I'm here and she says, "Come sit with us."<p>

I don't bother to question her or get snarky. I walk over and sit to her left. We all sit together, silently, for a long while, before Longbottom plants a slow kiss on her lips and leaves the Room of Requirements. She stares out at the endless sea for a few minutes before saying, "I own you now."

I laugh and roll my eyes, "What are you talking about?"

Her head slowly grinds to face me and her wide eyes dig into my innards. Her intangible, gorgeous glory fades into feelings of utter terror – I've never felt fear and never like this. She grabs my chin in her left hand and pulls me to her lips. A kiss, at first, turns into sucking out my essence, which she spits back into my mouth. She yanks my head away from her face and says, in a honey-dipped voice, "I created you. I can take it all away."

I scoot away from her, forcing myself to not get lost in her glowing skin.

"I am responsible for you. You own up to me."

I stare into her swirling eyes.

"You need to tell me everything about your dark order."


End file.
